Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Stacking Prudence; "She's the Queen of TMI"

This is a session from late last year with Prudence.  It took place the night before the events in this post occurred.  As in that post, dear Prudence may have had an adult beverage or two, so she was “on.”

She had arrived at BSC before I had, but was playing in a 2/5 game.  When I got situated at my 1/2 game, she joined me there.  I didn’t hear what prompted her to say this, but soon after she arrived at my table, I heard her tell one of the players near her, “I’m just here because I’m having sex with one of the dealers.”
I said to her, “What?  You mean right now?”
A bit later she contradicted that.  Again, the context, if there was one, was lost for me.  “Now that I’m married, I don’t have sex……besides, I’m on my period.”
I replied, “Thank you for sharing that,” but a at least two or three of the guys at the table said, “T.M.I., T.M.I.”  The dealer at that time was my pal George (for an earlier post featuring George, see here).  George the table, “She’s the queen of T.M.I.”  Hard to argue with that.
There was a guy at the table from Canada, and I must say, he didn’t represent his country well.  He was, in my opinion, a douchebag.  So we’ll call him CD, short for “Canadian Douchebag.”  He was sitting behind a huge stack of chips, something like $800-$900.  But that wasn’t why he was a douchebag.
He loved to comment on my play.  A few times, after I took a few moments to act and then folded, “I knew you were gonna fold there.”  Once or twice he added something like, “What took you so long?”  Once, when I didn’t fold, he said, “I was sure you were gonna fold there.”  This was after the hand was over, at least.  
Now, almost all of these times it was when he wasn’t even in the hand, although one time it might have been against him.  I should point out that I don’t normally take a long time to make decisions, and wasn’t taking a long time on this night.  What, did he have a bus to catch?
But the most annoying thing he did was, he kept calling me “Rob.”  Yes, I know, that is my name.  But I never told him that.  He never asked me my name.  He overheard Prudence calling me “Rob” and just took it on himself to keep using my name whenever he addressed me, even though he never told me his name.  Not that it would have mattered, I would still refer to him as Canadian Douchebag even if I knew his name.
There was actually something in the way he said my name that made it so grating.  There was a tone in his voice, almost like he was being sarcastic.  Or nasty.  Or just….something. He wasn’t addressing anyone else like this…not by name, not commenting on anyone else’s action—just mine.  I started thinking that he was somehow put off by my interaction with Prudence—or possibly because I was so friendly with all the dealers that came to the table.  But I think it had to do more with Prudence.  I don’t think he could figure us out.  We are an odd couple, for sure.
Prudence had the same reaction to this guy.  When I whispered to her that this guy was really getting on my nerves, she whispered back, “Yeah, he is kind of a douchebag, isn’t he?”  I could not disagree.  I considered suggesting that we change tables when CD beat us to it.  He picked up his big stack of chips and left for greener pastures.  Maybe his big problem was that I played too tight for him to make any money off of?
Anyway, a woman who didn’t really look familiar to me took his place.  I’m pretty sure that Prudence didn’t recognize her at all.  But being Prudence, and have consumed a few of those adult beverages I alluded to earlier, she greeted the woman with the comment, “I hope you’re not a douchebag like the last person who had the seat was.”
She did not act either shocked or upset at this comment, much to my surprise.  She took it well.  Then, pointing to me, she said, “Well, ask him if I’m a douchebag.  He plays with me all the time.”
I was a bit caught off guard.  I said something like, “Oh, have we played together before?”  She assured me we had and didn’t seem too insulted that I couldn’t remember.  She said something like, “I guess I’m not very memorable.”  We kept playing and she was very nice, friendly, a good person to play poker with.  In other words, she was indeed the complete opposite of the Canadian Douchebag.  As we played on, slowly but surely, I remembered this woman.  I really could remember playing with her only one time, but as I recalled, it was a real long session.  And even longer for her.  We had played together for hours and I recalled her telling me that she had already been at that same table for many, many hours before I showed up.

The more I thought, the more I remembered that session, and I even remembered her occupation.  I remembered her story about how she had dropped a friend off at the airport on her day off and decided to spend the day playing poker.  I remembered that before I had gotten a table change to her table that day, Steve Martin (yes, that Steve Martin, the actor/comedian) had been playing at her table for hours with her.  I moved there and he played one more hand and left.  That’s why the Steve Martin story never made it into a blog post.
The only thing I didn’t remember was her name, which she told me (and I won’t reveal here, of course).  She was calling me “Rob”, and I actually think she may have remembered it from our previous session.  In any case, she did not have the nasty tone in her voice when she said it, unlike CD did.
It’s weird that I didn’t recognize at all at first, but eventually remembered almost everything about that session we had together.  Hopefully she wasn’t insulted by my slow memory.
We got into one hand together and it did not end well for her.  I raised preflop with pocket Jacks.  Low flop and I bet out on it.  She shoved.  But she was short stacked and it didn’t cost me all that much more to call her.  So even though I suspected I was behind, it was an easy call.
We didn’t show.  The turn looked harmless but I was happy to see a Jack hit the river.  Sure enough, I needed that Jack; she had flopped two pair.    Prudence took note.  “That’s my move!”  I’ve mentioned here a couple of times Prudence has been all in with pocket Jacks, been behind a bigger pocket pair, only to hit her Jack on the river.  (I can’t seem to locate any of the posts, but I know they’re here, somewhere).
That wasn’t the most memorable hand of poker during the evening, however.  No, that came earlier, while CD was still at the table, though it didn’t involve him.  When I first got to the table there was a young Korean man sitting to my immediate left.  Prudence was two seats to my right.  The Korean guy was raising a lot, playing rather aggro, which did not please Prudence.  She made some comments to him about his aggressive play (as she tends to do when she’s had a few).
The Korean guy had over $200 in front of him, Prudence had, I think, less than $!00 at this point.  My stack was more or less between those two amounts.  On the button I was dealt a couple of Aces.  Korean guy and Prudence both limped, as did a few others.  I made a decent raise, and Korean guy and Prudence called.  
The flop came Ace-5-3, two diamonds.  I was pretty happy about it, obviously.  I was even happier when the Korean guy led out with a bet.  I was then thinking about how much to raise when I heard Prudence announce “all in”!
That was interesting.  All three of us apparently liked the flop.  But since I had the 2nd nuts at that moment, I had no choice but to shove as well.  Note, I did briefly consider that Prudence had played the Grump right there (ie, the deuce-four), but I didn’t think Prudence would have called my raise with that.  Korean guy called.
No one showed and two spades that didn’t pair anything filled out the board.  I showed my set and Prudence and the Korean guy mucked.  Korean guy said he had two pair.  Prudence took a brief break at that point.  I didn’t feel good about stacking Prudence, but hey, that’s poker.
I tweeted about it, and she replied via tweet.  She had King-10 of diamonds, so, she made a move against the Korean guy with the draw to the nut flush (the Ace on the board was one of the two diamonds on the flop).  She didn’t know, until I shoved myself, that the flop hit me so hard.  She probably thought I had pocket Kings and that the Ace killed my hand.
It was a fun night for me, as I ended up almost $200 ahead.  But I did feel a bit guilty about taking all of Prudence’s stack.  At least it wasn’t a suck out.

Monday, February 25, 2013

She Gives Asians a Bad Name

Fellow blogger Poker Meister recently started a series of blog posts about “Stereotypes and poker” and it reminded me of an amusing story.  Like his series, this post may easily be considered politically incorrect.  So be it.  You will note that the first two “types” he described were Asians, and this post involves Asians as well.

This took place a day or two after Christmas when I played in the Aria 1PM tournament.  Early in the tournament, a young, attractive Asian woman comes to the table.  She was super chatty, ultra friendly.  She started chatting with the dealer like they’ve been pals since High School.  I couldn’t tell if she was a local or had just been playing at the Aria a lot as a tourist but she definitely knew a lot of the staff.
She’s a very active player, seeing most flops, She wins a few hands but is slowly bleeding chips with her aggressive play.
About 20 minutes or so later, another new entrant joins our table, sitting near me and away from the woman.  He too is Asian, and in the same general age range as the woman (late 20’s, early 30’s maybe).  They do not know each other.  But he had a similar style, playing a lot of hands, with mostly poor results.  He seemed a little more likely to raise pre-flop, but otherwise, they are very similar players.  His personality is very different, however, he is not talking much.
Both of them have diminished stacks, but it’s still early and neither one is anywhere close to “shove or fold” mold.  Neither one has to make a move yet.
So a few people limp into a pot, including the woman and me.  I had pocket 3’s.  The Asian man announces all in.  It folds to the woman, who said, “OK, I want to get out of here, let’s go.”  And announces a call.  The guy has the woman covered, but not by all that much.  Everyone else, including me of course, folds.  
The guy has Ace-King, and the girl shows Ace-deuce.  It wasn’t even suited.  The only thing that hits is a King, so the guy takes the pot and the woman takes off.
Now you would think the guy would be happy.  He just got a near double up, and now he has a lot of chips to play with, relative to the blinds.  But no, he started to complain about the woman’s play.
As he is stacking up his chips, he starts talking.   "Ace-deuce?  Why does she call with Ace-deuce?  She just threw away $125.  Does she have so much money $125 means nothing to her?  Why the hell does she call with Ace-deuce?"  The $125 is a reference to the buy in for the tournament. 
Honestly, he was complaining more than almost any other player does when they lose a hand!
I couldn’t figure out why he was complaining so much, but finally he revealed what his problem was.
To any of the nearby players who were near him, he said, “"You know, people think Asians are all crazy gamblers.  That’s our reputation. She just played right into that.  And it reflects badly on me."
Aha.  Well, that explained his unhappiness.  Nobody really responded to that, wisely staying out of the guy’s heated discussion with himself.
He didn’t really take advantage of his new found chip position.  He stayed overly aggressive and chipped down.  Still, it was early, and he didn’t really have to make a move yet.  Nevertheless, he went all-in in early position.  This time he got two callers, both of whom had him covered.   Turns out he shoved with King-3 offsuit.  He was done for the day.
After he left, the guy next to me said, “King-three, huh?  And he was complaining about calling with Ace-deuce?  Isn’t King-three worse than Ace-deuce?”
True .  But I pointed out that at least he had shoved first, unlike the woman.  So he had fold equity.  Still, for his position in the tournament, it was a needless risk.
As for me, I made a relatively early exit.  My best hand was when I three-bet with the dreaded pocket kings.  The original raiser called.  Low flop, and he folded to my flop bet, showing pocket Jacks.  Later, getting close to desperate, I shoved with King-Queen off and ran into a luckbox who had been hitting hands all day.  She easily called with Ace-King, and didn’t hit anything on the board, but she didn’t need to.  Ace high won.
And I was done, but at least I had a nice politically incorrect story to talk about.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Sunset Station poker room looks to recapture glory

My latest column for Ante Up Magazine is online and you can read it here.

It will probably be another week or two before it starts appearing in poker rooms around the country.

Friday, February 22, 2013

I Love, Love, Love Pocket Kings!

Perhaps this post will change my reputation.  After this, I may never be known again as a hater of the dreaded pocket kings.  And if that happens, maybe I can someday no longer be known as a guy who is “obsessed with bosoms.”  Yeah......right.  I’m pretty sure that after my last post (see here), that shipped has sailed.

Last Sunday, I drove down to The Bike in picturesque Bell Gardens, CA.  My first poker session since returning from my most recent Vegas vist.  Don’t worry—or do worry, if you are so inclined—I still have blog posts to get to from my two most recent Vegas trips. But since I’m home, it’s easy to write this post while it is still very fresh in mind.
When I got there, they were just starting a new $2/$3 game, and I was able to grab the last seat.  My luck started early as I drew the Ace of diamonds to claim the button.  I noticed one very familiar face at the table.  My old pal, “Bluffing Guy” was in seat 4 (I had seat 7).  BG. as I will call him, has made two prior appearances on the blog, see here and here.  It was the most recent post, from just a month ago (the second link), that plays into this day’s events.
He didn’t say hello to me, and I didn’t acknowledge him, either.  Did he not recognize me?  I doubted it.  In the post last month, I credited some success against him due to my remembering him and him not remembering me (I guess I’m just not that memorable).  But this time, I would have bet the house he remembered me, even though he never said a thing.  This was a good player, a tricky player, and if my last post was correct, I really got into his head (hence the title).  So I didn’t think there was any way he didn’t have a pretty good mental file on me this time.
I kept that in mind all day.  I thought it was less likely he’d be able to surprise me, and also, I figured he might have a surprise or two in store for me.  I knew I wanted to be very careful with him, and I also know it was likely he’d be involved in almost every pot I contested, if only because he played an awful lot of hands.
Early on, I lost a fair amount of chips to him because I remembered his game.  In late position he made a modest raise, had one caller and I had Ace-3 suited in the big blind.  No had limped before him (it was a tight table at this point).  Knowing he was likely raising light, I called.  This is kind of bad habit I need to break myself out of from my 2/4 days.  I play suited Aces way too often.  But this time, I felt it was decent risk, with him probably raising with crap.
The flop was Ace-6-6, rainbow.  Small blind checked, I led out with a bet of $20 I believe.  BG raised to $50.  My instincts told me he was bluffing.  I called.  The turn put out a 2nd club (not my suit) and I checked.  I didn’t really want to lose a lot of money with top pair, crappy kicker.  I wondered if he had Ace-rag, with his rag higher than mine.  The turn club was low, however, not likely to play.  I probably should have let it go when he bet another $50, but couldn’t shake the feeling my Ace was good so I called.
The river was a three of clubs, the third club on the board.  So I had three pair, not a particular good hand in Hold’em.  I checked, and wondered how big a bet I was willing to call.
I didn’t have to figure it out.  He checked behind me, showed his Jack 6 offsuit for trip 6’s, and said, “I was worried about that club” to explain why he didn’t bet the river.
Ok, so my initial read was right, he raised with a total garbage hand.  But he hit his garbage hand.  He might have bet the same way on the flop and turn if he had missed, based on my recollection of him.  Oh well, it was early, plenty of time to recover.
I guess I was down to about $160 in front of me (from a $300 buy in) when my next confrontation with BG occurred, about 30-45 minutes later.  I was trying to figure out how much lower I’d let my stack get before buying more chips.  And then, in late position, I looked down at my “favorite” hand.  Yes, the dreaded pocket kings.  And wouldn’t you know, before it got to me, BG raised to $20.  It folded to me.
Now of course, it was certainly possible that BG had two Aces.  After all, loose, aggro players get Aces as often as nits.  But with his raising range, there was just as much chance he had 7-deuce offsuit as there was he had pocket rockets.  I bumped it to $50.
He thought a few seconds and then announced “all in.”  I was not scared.  Although I figured this meant he had a better hand than Jack-6, I still put him a fairly wide range that included a fair amount of hands I was ahead of, and only one I wasn’t.  I said “call” pretty damn fast.  He had me covered, so my entire remaining stack was in play.
Neither of us showed our hands.  I didn’t much like the flop, which included a big ol’ Ace.  And when that Ace hit, BG looked at me and nodded.  I took that to mean he had Ace-something, maybe even Ace-King , and that he was now sitting pretty.  Nothing else on the board was significant.  I flipped over my Kings and said, “You hit your Ace?”
But no, he didn’t hit his Ace.  He didn’t hit a 10 either, which was what he needed for a winning hand.  He had raised and then four-bet me with pocket 10’s!  Nice double up for me, thank you very much.  And with the dreaded pocket kings, no less.
I was happy to stack my chips, and not complaining one bit, but I did spend a fair amount of time thinking about his play there.  I now realized that the nod when the Ace hit was him thinking that Ace was the card I needed (since it surely didn’t help him).  So, instead of a bigger than his pocket pair, he put me on Ace-King (maybe, maybe, Ace-Queen).
Well ok, but why did he think I’d three-bet him with Ace-King?  I don’t generally three-bet with Ace-King, at least not in a cash game.  Of course, he couldn’t know that—
Oh wait.  I started to remember that previous post about him, about how I “got into his head.”  Yes, yes, then I remembered.  I had indeed three-bet him last time with A-K.  I got the idea from him, and from knowing that he raised pretty light more often than not.  Sadly, I couldn’t remember the details of that hand from last time, just that I had indeed made a 3-bet against him with A-K and that it had paid off.
When I got home, I re-read my post and viola, there it was.  You can click the link to it above to see for yourself, but basically, I 3-bet him with Ace-King, he had me pegged as such a tight player, he folded, but showed his pocket 6’s.  I didn’t show, but he asked me what I had with a verbal expression.  I decided to tell him, although I normally never do that.  You can read the prior post for a better explanation.
When I mouthed Ace-King he was very upset, mad at himself for not calling.  That’s the moment I think when I got in his head.  He mentioned it a couple of times during the session after that.  He was maybe a bit obsessed with it.
So, if I’m right that he was remembering that hand from last time, it turned out it was a very good thing I told him I had Ace King last month.  If I hadn’t told him that, then based on my play, he figures this time, when I’m three-betting, I must have a bigger pocket pair than his measly 10’s.  And he’d either fold (unlikely, for him) or just call hoping to hit his set.  Instead, he thinks Ace-King and is willing to race with me when he’s a 55-45 favorite, or thereabouts.
And then…..had he just called, he probably lets it go on the flop.  Unless he wants to bet out or check-raise me, thinking I might be afraid of the Ace. But I don’t know if he would have tried that, since there would be a good chance I had a set of Aces.

I realize I’m just totally speculating here, and that I may be wrong.  I’ll never know.  But until I’m told otherwise, I’m going to continue to think that our last session together helped me win more chips on this hand than I otherwise would have. 
Frankly, even with any other opponent than me, I don’t like his play there.  At this level of no limit, there are very few players who three-bet with any hand that he’s not way behind or just a slight favorite over in a race.  Why risk $160 on a race there?  In a tournament, sure, you make that move often.  But in a cash game, why not wait for a better place to put that kind of money at risk?
Maybe one day my game will “evolve” to the point where I play like that, but I’m sure not there now.
Less than two orbits later, I believe, I once again was dealt two more Kings.  Could I possibly win with them twice in a row?
My preflop raise was called by two players, including BG.  There was an Ace on the board and no King.  I bet out and of course knew I might have to let the hand go if there was much resistance.  But both BG and the other guy folded.  It was a small pot of course, but I was now 2 for 2 with KK.
Not long after that, I was dealt a couple of red Aces.  Two called my raise, including BG.  Although I hit a set, the board was scary as hell, Ace-King-Jack, two spades.  I bet a bit under the size of the pot, and they both folded.  I was happy with that for such a wet board.
I also saw two Queens at one point, in early position.  But that time, no one called my preflop raise.
Then there was a hand that BG played very strangely that cost me a few bucks.  I had 9-5 offsuit in the big blind.  Three limpers, including BG.  So I saw the flop for free.  Flop was A-9-x.  It checked around.  The turn was a blank.  I suppose I could have bet my middle pair, shit kicker, but I didn’t really feel like risking much for a nothing pot.  Checked around again
There was a Queen on the river.  It checked to BG who bet out $11, folded back to me.  Since he had not bet until then, I thought it was very likely he was trying to steal it.  Surely he would have bet before if he had an Ace.  Maybe he had a Queen, but for $11, I figured what the hell, I’ll see if I catch him in a bluff.
Nope.  I was floored when he showed his hand.  Ace-Queen.  Ace-Queen?  Are you kidding me?  I couldn’t believe it.  He didn’t raise with Ace-Queen?  This guy raises with Jack-6 for crissakes!  And not with Ace-Queen?
Then he flops top pair, 2nd best kicker and just checks???  And checks the turn too?  This is not a guy who usually waits until he has two pair to bet, you can be sure of that!
The only explanation I could think of—and it’s pretty lame—is that he had just been served a meal and was distracted by it.  But it just stunned me.  It was if this guy had been temporarily possessed by Nitty McNitty.
But he played another hand kind of soft and that paid off for me.  I had pocket 4’s, limped in.  Missed my set, no one bet the flop.  Blank on the turn, no one bet.  River was a four.  Now there was a King on the board, and I don’t remember whether it was on the flop or the turn.  But on the river, BG bet out $20.  Of course I raised it to $50.  He thought for awhile, said “King no good?” and folded.
The most dramatic hand of the day was one that didn’t involve BG.  On the button I once again saw two Kings.  I estimated my chances of going three-for-three in one session with that hand as about 1 in 2.7 million.  No, I didn’t check my poker odds calculator android app to confirm.
There were a whole bunch of limpers so I made it $21.  It folded to an older black woman who had joined the table recently.  She had limped under the gun.  The floor people and the dealer knew her, she was a regular.  They called her by name.  I’m gonna call her Wilma.  Wilma had a little notepad and a pen in front of her.  She seemed to be taking notes during the play (hmm, maybe she has a blog).  After she left the table, the dealer said she always takes notes and that they appear to be in Morse Code!  They were definitely not English letters.
Anyway, this nice, sweet, dear lady with her notes in front of her makes it $71!  Folds to me.  That’s way more than half her stack, she only has about $30-$40 left. 
As I said, she hadn’t been at the table very long when this happened, maybe an orbit or two.  Hadn’t made any aggressive moves before.  I suppose if her stack was bigger, this might have been a time when I would have at least flirted with the possibility of folding those Kings.  I was already thinking the odds of me winning a third straight time in one session were slim (yes, I know that doesn’t matter in reality, but I couldn’t help thinking about it).
But in this case, I was very quick to announce “all in” and of course, she snap called (she was pot committed; no matter what her hand, I couldn’t see her folding).  We didn’t show.
The guy next to her said, “This smells like Aces vs Kings.”  Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too of course.  It felt like my run of luck with my Kryptonite hand was over.
I don’t remember the other two flop cards, but I sure do remember the King.  Wilma groaned quite audibly when she saw it, even though she hadn’t seen my hand.  The last two cards were blank-blank.  I flipped over my Kings and she showed her two Aces.  And quietly got up to go to the ATM.
Wow.  My Kings were now three for three, and I had (obviously) really gotten lucky with them that last time.  There was a bit of discussion about the hand as I was stacking my chips.  The guy who made the observation, “this smells like Aces vs Kings” said that whatever the odds of seeing that (Aces vs Kings) are, it seems to happen more often than it should.  I’ve always felt that.  I gave my theory that this was because whenever it happens, it’s always so memorable.  Even people not in the hand remember it.
The guy said, “Yeah, well, Wilma will remember it, that’s for sure.”
I played a few more orbits, not getting much of anything to play.  But then, by now, I was only going to play KK.
Just kidding. 
None of the pots I won were huge, and I lost a few pots along the way.  But I cashed out ahead $125, and had the unique experience of winning three times (and losing zero times) with the dreaded pocket kings.  Not bad.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Caught With My Zipper Down! (Part 3)

Note:  Be sure to read parts 1 & 2 of this post first, as this post picks up right after part 2 ends.  See below, or part 1 is here and part 2 is here.

Ironically, on the day Denise told us the story about Poker Genius,  I came thisclose to telling her about my blog, right after I busted out.  I thought she might enjoy my first Poker Genius post. As I mentioned earlier, in part 1, I rarely tell people about the blog. I think about doing so all the time, then I get self-conscious.  But I really did almost tell her about it.  Then I remembered the “zipper” post, and without being sure of what I said about her even then, I decided to play it safe and not tell her about the blog.

Of course, at that time I had no idea she had read that post I was worried about.  But now I know she had.  So let’s just suppose she also knew that I was indeed the guy who had written that post.  Now say I had decided to tell her about my blog for the purpose of sharing the first Poker Genius story with her.  How might that conversation have gone?
Gulp.  “You know, I have a blog and I think—“ 
“Yes, I know all about your blog"
Well, I dunno how to finish that.  But I guess I would have found out that she had read my first story about her a lot sooner than I did.
Although I didn’t tell Denise about the blog, ironically, she and I actually had a private conversation just the weekend before this whole thing with Audrey took place. You see, during a tournament break, I felt compelled to tell her about my Poker Genius sighting back in L.A. (see here).  So I said to her, “I saw your ‘boyfriend’ in L.A. last weekend.”  I used air-quotes when I said boyfriend.  She didn’t get it at first, probably because she thought I was staring at her…..many fine physical attributes.  But then I used his name and she was surprised he had gotten to L.A.  I reminded her that the story is he lives in his car.  Surprisingly, she did not take advantage of the opportunity she then had to tell me how much she loved my blog (if indeed, she knew that I was the "zipper" blogger).
Well, that was going to be the end of the story.  Originally, my plans were to leave Vegas the coming Saturday, so I would not have a chance to play again at Binion’s before leaving town.  But then I decided to stay two more days, the thought of all those crazy gamblers in town for the Super Bowl made me think the poker might be quite profitable. 
So, of course,  I just had to go to Binion’s the Saturday before the Super Bowl.  I needed to ask Audrey two more questions.  Now that I had re-read my first post about Denise, the one that Audrey sent to her, I had to hear how she reacted to it.  I had to know.
And also, I needed to find out whether or not  Denise knew who I am.
I eventually was in a position to speak to Audrey confidentially.  I have no idea how she really felt about me peppering her with all these questions, but she acted like a good sport about it.
I whispered to her, “You know, when I got back last week and finally read my old post about Denise, I was so embarrassed,  I was so……ungentlemanly.”
She laughed and kind of waved it off, as if it was nothing.  But I continued.
“You have to tell me how she reacted to it, what was her reaction when she read it?”
Now here I got maybe some mixed messages.  Her facial expression turned sort of negative, like, well, “ugh.”  But maybe that was just her trying to remember, or trying to phrase her response.  Because all she quoted Denise as saying was, “They’re talking about that?  Seriously?”  Hmm, that was pretty much what she said when she heard about the post, before reading it.
I wasn’t sure I got the whole story there.  I repeated how embarrassed I was about what I’d said about her.
Then Audrey said, “Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s fine.  It’s fine.”
“Although, it was pretty funny, that you said they were real.”
Oh. My God.  I was now discussing the breasts of a woman I barely know, with another woman I barely know.  How did this happen?
I said, “They’re not real?”  Yes, I actually said that.  Shame on me, but I did.
Audrey then said, “Oh, they’re real…………expensive.”  There was a good five second pause between the words “real” and “expensive.”
I couldn’t help myself.  That news was pretty sensational.  “They’re not real???  I guess I didn’t get a good enough look at them.”  Yes, I really did say that, too.
Audrey was laughing.  “That’s what she always says…..’they’re real……expensive.’”
Oh my god.  So Denise jokes about “them” that way?
I was trying to process this when she said to me, “Don’t worry about it, it’s flattering.  She should be flattered.”
I heard myself saying, “Yeah, that they look real.”
OK, I really did say that, but in hindsight, I think Audrey may have meant that Denise should be flattered by my overall comments about hot she is, not that she would be flattered because her breasts look real.
And to be perfectly honest, I can’t totally dismiss the possibility that Audrey was just joking about the “real…..expensive” line.  It would serve me right.
If I had half a brain, I would have gotten the hell out of there right then, but I was in too deep, and I had to ask my last question.
“Does she know who I am?” 
“Oh yes, of course.  She knows who you are.”
I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure the color completely drained from my face.
“Really? Because I don’t think she would have told me the story about Poker Genius asking her out for a date if she knew I was a blogger and would likely blog about it.”
“Oh, she knows. For sure she knows.  She absolutely knows it’s you.”
I think I mumbled something totally incoherent and slunked back to my seat.  I believe I heard her say one more time that is ok, or not to worry about it, or something like that.
OK, if she knew it was the guy who blogged about her zipper sitting at the table when everyone was trying her to get her tell us her Poker Genius story, perhaps I misinterpreted her reluctance.  Perhaps she would have snap-told that story to everyone at the table if I wasn’t there.  Perhaps the only reason it took so long to convince her to spill the story was because I was there, and she finally realized that she didn’t care if I blogged the juicy details. 
I left Binion’s sometime later, trying to process the whole story, trying to remember every possible detail I could.

As I went over this in my mind, I felt two things.  1) I had the greatest story to tell my close friends.  I knew they would all love this story.  They would all think it was my greatest story yet.  And truth be told, I was dying to tell them.  I couldn’t wait to tell them.  I was almost bursting, keeping this story inside.
And 2), I could never tell this story on the blog.  My greatest blog post ever, and I couldn’t publish it.
My thought was that, for one thing, this story is way too self-indulgent, way too self-absorbed to be of interest to anyone outside my small circle of close friends.  Of course, you could say that all my posts are self-indulgent, and of course that’s true.  That’s the great thing about doing a blog, you only have to write what you want to write about.  Still, I was wondering if the average person would find it that interesting that I was sitting next to someone who surprised me with the term, “the dreaded pocket Kings,” and then....and then.....
But of course my main concern was…..could I risk embarrassing Audrey, and more importantly, re-embarrassing Denise, by publishing this?  Here I am, being self-critical about how ungentlemanly I was, how crude I was, so how the hell could I publish the much more cruder, the much more ungentlemanly version now?  And wouldn’t I be just be admitting to all the nasty things I’ve said about myself in this post?  Admitting, nothing.  I’d be shouting it from the highest hills.
So I didn’t think I could do this blog post.  Then I told my friends, one at a time.  As I suspected, they all loved the story (this is not being egotistical, I just knew that all my close friends, the ones who know me a lot better than the average blog reader possibly could, would be fascinated with it).  But one by one, they all said, without reservation, that I could, should and indeed, had to blog this story.
First there was Prudence.  Even though she covered her face as I read to her my description of Denise in the “zipper” post, she thought it was definitely great blog material.  She told me that ultimately (as Audrey had said), Denise would be flattered.  When I repeated my reservations, she said, “You’re too much of a gentleman.”  I repeated some of the quotes from the earlier post to prove otherwise, but she brushed that off.
Then, Luv Malts and Woody, the couple who pushed me to start a blog, weighed in.  Of course you have to blog this story,” they both said.  It was exactly for this kind of story that they pushed me become a blogger. Woody said, all I had to do was use pseudonyms to give everyone plausible deniability.  Actually, I’ve used that very phrase here previously to explain why I use pseudonyms. 
They also pointed out that people actually seem to like being written about on my blog.  After all, although Prudence hasn’t outted herself with her real name, she has totally embraced the whole “Prudence” persona I helped publicize for her.  Jeannie, after I talked about her taking a picture of her friend’s cleavage, not only revealed her real name, she revealed her own cleavage—and demanded that I photograph it and publish it on this very blog!  Other people discussed here have outted themselves with their real names as well.  In fact, no one has ever complained to me about being written about on this blog.
Finally Norm agreed with all of that, and again, encouraged me to publish the whole story.  And in discussing it with him, I realized (or perhaps he suggested it first, I’m not sure) that just as Denise apparently knew I was the blogger when she told us all about her “relationship” with Poker Genius, Audrey told me all of this knowing full well that I was the guy who blogged about….well, a lot of shit, to be sure.  And at no time did she ever say to me, “You can’t blog this.”  And believe me, people who know I have a blog have said that very thing to me from time to time.  And of course, I always honor that.
So, I decided to go with it.  No real names were used and I sincerely hope that the only people who will be able to recognize the players in this post are the actual people themselves. To the rest of my readers, they have that “plausible deniability.”
If I’ve miscalculated, I apologize in advance to Audrey and Denise.  And then, I will have to recognize the fact that I might never be able to set foot in Binion’s again.

(Edited to add, well I did return to Binion's again and the story of my next encounter with Denise, see here).

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Caught With My Zipper Down! (Part 2)

Note:  Be sure to read part 1 of this post first, below or see here, before reading this.  This post picks up right where part 1 ended.

I knew the first mention of Denise was buried in a seemingly unrelated post, and it would be hard for me to locate it.  That’s why I didn’t bother trying to find it on my celphone.  So I booted up the laptop and located the post. And it was indeed from May, 2012.  Audrey’s memory was dead on.

Now, I could just give the link to that post, but I know that most people, no matter how much I beg, won’t click the link.  And it is absolutely essential to this story that you read the relevant part of that old post for this current one to have any impact.  So I’m going quote myself from a portion of that old post below.  Of course, you could skip over the text below too, but to give you incentive, the text I’m quoting makes me look really, really bad.  So:
Now that I'm home and can get back to some serious blogging, I want to tell the full version of what happened on the night of "Blogger's Poker" last week.  But despite my best intentions, I will have to do this in two parts because what I've already written is long enough and I believe what I have left to cover from this day is probably of equal size to this post.  I should warn you that in the two lengthy posts, I will cover a variety of incidents that took place on one day--all somehow (or somewhat) related to poker.  Also I will be discussing two women with large bosoms.  I just want to mention that up front (so-to-speak) since no one would come to my blog expecting a discussion of breasts.  So those of you who would never be caught dead reading a blog post discussing this robust topic have been cautioned.
Before having dinner on this Sunday, and thus before the poker game that will take up the bulk of the post, I played in another poker room in Vegas.  I have played in this room before but in keeping with my own mysterious ways, I will not identify the room now, nor will I even give it a phony name.  The reason for this will be explained shortly.
At this room I saw a very attractive female dealer that I don’t remember seeing before, which I found surprising because I am no stranger to this room and I find it hard to believe a woman this attention-getting would escape my notice.  But she didn’t seem like she was new to the room.  How was it I could not have noticed this lady before?  I don’t know.  Perhaps she never worked on the days I come into this room, though it was not unusual for me to be there on this particular day of the week.
You see in addition to her just being generally attractive, what I couldn’t help noticing about her was her chest.  It was impressive, to say the least.  She had the largest breasts of any poker dealer I can remember seeing, with the possible exception of the woman I described here as “a very heavy set female poker dealer” in the third paragraph of the post (and not my buddies at BSC).  But that woman was, as I said, heavy….she was large in every sense.  The poker dealer I am now talking about had a very nice figure, she could have been a model.  Actually, she could have been a Playboy model, at least on the basis of how she looked with her clothes on.
And her clothes are really the reason I’m even mentioning her.  For some reason, in this room on this day, the dealers were allowed, perhaps even encouraged, to not wear their regular, boring, dealing uniforms.  They were allowed to wear “Western” wear.  So they had jeans and cowboy type shirts, perhaps cowboy boots but I didn’t notice.  But instead of wearing a “western” shirt, said dealer had just a white, long-sleeved shirt that was open to the waist.
Ok, it wasn’t quite as shocking as that makes it sound.  She was wearing something underneath the white shirt (in addition to a bra, I’m mean).  It was a pink top, that appeared to be strapless,but that was both extremely tight and extremely low cut.  And I do mean extreme in both cases. I don’t recall ever seeing a cleavage-revealing poker dealer before, I mean while dealing.  And this was a rather abundant amount of cleavage being revealed, to be sure.  It was quite attention getting, to say the least.  And for those who have an interest in this type of thing, I would say there was enough cleavage exposed to make me fairly certain that her assets were factory-installed, not after market.  Since this was Vegas, I would give 4-1 odds that she her chest was entirely organic.
This was definitely a dealer I would love to be facing pitching me cards, you can be sure of that.  But my luck was bad both in poker and in dealers.  The lady never made it to my table to deal.  Oh well, I was able to enjoy the view from afar.  And it would have been a bit of a test of my powers of concentration (more on that topic to come) to be able to concentrate the poker when facing those ta-ta’s in all (well, most) of their glory.
Oh, and a quick story about her...before sitting down at a table, she somehow noticed that the zipper on her jeans was undone.  She somehow blamed the dealer at the next table (another attractive female, tho not as provocatively dressed) for not noticing this.  “Thanks for telling me my zipper was open!”  The dealer she was speaking to just shrugged, but a middle aged woman at the table, probably a regular who knows the busty dealer, said, “What’s the big deal?  What’s gonna fall out?” Busty dealer didn’t seem to appreciate that comment but said nothing.  Middle-aged woman added, “Unless there’s something about you we don’t know.”
Now the reason I don’t want to say anything at all about where this was is this.  As I have explained in several posts, most recently here (and implied in many others), the poker community is a very small world and the Vegas poker community even more so.  I keep running into characters I’ve blogged about and who I have no idea are reading my blog.  I don’t want to make it too obvious who this lovely lady dealer is.  I’ve probably already said too much.
I know I have said nothing to insult her, quite the contrary.  And I’m sure this lady knows she has large breasts.  And I also realize that she chose that outfit that morning knowing she would be showing anyone who got in front of her (or to the side of her, for that matter) that she is the opposite of flat-chested.  But all that said, she might be embarrassed; she might not appreciate finding out that some blogger was blogging about how big her tits are. 
So why am I doing exactly that, you ask?  If you are asking that, I have to assume it is a rhetorical question.  How could I not?

(If you do want to read the whole post, here it is)

I was alone in my room and yet I’m sure I turned 87 shades of red reading that.
And my first thought was, “F**k!  I am obsessed with bosoms!”

And I felt like the biggest lowlife, the sleaziest creep who ever lived. 
Where do I begin?  Well, let’s start with the fact that in that post, I didn’t even name the casino the story took place in.  And I didn’t give the dealer a phony name.
I did that to protect the dealer’s identity.
More importantly, I did that so that the story would never get back to her!
You see, it’s one thing to describe some anonymous woman the way I did there.  Some woman I saw one time at a poker table or at a casino who is never gonna read my blog, and thus, my description of her.  But I would never, ever have described a lady that way if I knew she was going to read said description.  I would never be so rude.
After getting over the shock of reading my own words, I suddenly realized that I thought I had made it pretty clear in the post that I didn’t want the lady in question to know about that particular blog post.  That’s why I didn’t name the poker room, even though it was, of course, Binion’s.  I mean, I even said, “she might be embarrassed; she might not appreciate finding out that some blogger was blogging about how big her tits are.”
Yet despite this, just hours earlier, I found out that one of my loyal blog readers had sent her the link to the post about her, even though I made it obvious I didn’t want her (Denise) to see it!  Yikes.
Ok, I wasn’t upset with Audrey.  Ultimately, I have only myself to blame.  Then too, Audrey knows “Denise.”  She wouldn’t have sent her the link if she thought Denise would be all that bothered by it, right?  Right?
Oh, and by the way, I referred to her breasts as “tits”!  Yeah, I did that.  Up until I came to the t-word, I was still trying to convince myself it wasn’t that bad.  But when I saw I had ended the whole discussion with “tits”, I sort of shook my head in disbelief.
I do not use that type of language with women, unless I am 100% they won’t be offended.  But never, ever, would I use that word to a woman to refer to her own specific, um, body parts.
Oh, and I had also called them “ta-ta’s”.  Nice.  Not to mention referring to her as having large breasts at least 67 times in just a couple of paragraphs!
And by the way, did you notice that I even speculated as to whether or not her physical attributes were god-given or man-made?  Did you notice that?  Yeah, I did.  How rude of me.  How sleazy.
But at least reading that post, it made sense how Audrey discovered my blog.  You see that post was really about a night of poker with Poker Grump, grrouchie, and Prudence.  Before that night was over, Grump had already posted about the evening.  He didn’t link to this post of mine, because I hadn’t written it yet.  But he did link to my blog when he mentioned playing with me, likely only the second time he’d linked to my blog.  If she enjoyed Grump’s post, she might very well have clicked the link to me and discovered my blog then.
A few hours later, I posted a short post (yes, I do do them sometimes), referencing the evening and posting a link back to Grump’s post).  So that might have been the 1st post Audrey saw if she found me from that.
The post directly underneath that (and remember, it was a short post) actually was a story  that took place in the Binion’s 2PM tournament, with Binion's prominently mentioned.  But at least, in that post, I didn’t mention any Binion’s dealers, male or female.
So that definitely might have caught Audrey’s eye.  I wonder if she starting thinking about all the folks she sees at work on the weekends, wondering who this guy (me) was?
Now, you might be wondering what that “zipper” post was doing in the blogger’s poker story.  Well, for one thing, it happened the same day.  But also, I knew I was going to finish that post (which became a two-parter), with a story about Prudence pointing out a particularly well-endowed poker player to me during the bloggers’ game.  That was definitely worth mentioning because it was Prudence herself who had started the whole meme that I’m “obsessed with bosoms” by shouting just that at me from half way across the BSC poker room the first time she saw me after discovering my blog (see here).  So of course it was worth mentioning that she herself elbowed me in the side and said, “Rob!  Big breasts alert!”
So it seemed like a good idea to me to book end that two-part post with an opening story about another woman who caught my attention for the same reason.  Start and end the post with large breasts.  And I wanted to tell the “zipper” story anyway; the “woman said” story that is a staple of my blog.  Besides, you never see a poker dealer showing cleavage, I thought that was noteworthy too (of course I did).

However, reading that post now, after learning that Denise had definitely read it…..well, I was embarrassed beyond belief.  It was quite ungentlemanly, to say the absolute least
But at least I was fairly sure that Denise didn’t know it was me that had written such crude sleaziness.  Denise is usually dealing at Binion’s when I play there, she sees me all the time.
Why did I think she didn’t know I was the sordid blogger?
Well, she had never slapped my face or kicked me in the nuts, for one thing.
But there was another reason I thought she didn’t know who I was.  As I referenced earlier, I’ve mentioned Denise another time on the blog, this time giving her that pseudonym “Denise.” 
Denise was indeed the beautiful dealer that told us the story of Poker Genius asking her out in this post here. Please note how much classier I was in describing her physical appearance in that post than in the earlier one.  See, I can be a gentleman when I try.
In that post, I described Denise’s great reluctance to tell her story on Poker Genius.  Because, as she pointed out, he was a customer.  But she eventually relented.
If she knew I had a blog, I thought, based on her reticence, she never would have told the story in my presence. Even if that post about her zipper was the only blog post of mine she’d ever read, she wouldn’t want to talk about PG in front of me, knowing that I would likely put it on the internet….as indeed I did. Right?

OK, that's all for part 2.  Part 3 is now posted and appears here.